Scott Douglas Vaughan

Through website reviews, social media, email, handwritten notes, and telephone calls, I hear from a lot of people who have read all or part of my books. I appreciate everyone's feedback and I appreciate the questions - either about the book content or independent publishing. Regardless of the feedback, there's a theme that sort of wiggles its way to the top of many conversations, especially from those of us growing up in the 1960s and 1970s. It's a theme of gratitude, which honestly has caught me by surprise. "Thank you, Scott, for taking me back to a simpler time." In all honesty, no time is ever really simple. As you will read in the next book, Hickory Trail , the backdrop is a time of post-Vietnam culture shock, Watergate, the rise of the drug culture, and the national oil crisis and recession . . . all happening at the same time. It was not so simple. But, if you think of it as a time without all the screens - no computers, no mobile te

In Honor of Thanksgiving, I present an abridged Chapter 8, The Feast of Thanksgiving, from my book, Elm Street (2016). The main character, Frank Wilcox, has settled into second grade at the Acorn Primary School in Acorn. The night I wrote this story, I laughed so hard that I cried. I hope you enjoy it and Happy Thanksgiving! SDV The Feast of Thanksgiving (From Scott Vaughan's Elm Street)            The photo appearing in the newspaper I am pictured far right with the Clorox jug Mrs. Wright’s classroom had survived Halloween, complete with syrup-filled wax candy in the shape of cola bottles, cupcakes with orange icing, and drinks from the Coca-Cola machines. Those children who didn’t have a dime for a drink were treated to one by moms helping with the day’s party. Children were allowed to dress in their favorite costumes and then stand in front of the class to introduce themselves.             Frank had come to school as a wolf man, a reoccurring Halloween characte

My maternal grandmother, Carolyn Holmes Yarbrough, was a public school teacher for more than 35 years. She died in 2003 at the age of 92 frail but not invalid and certainly of a good mind. If you didn't know her, I wish you could have known her. We called her Mema. She was not a "crawl up in the lap for a hug and a story" grandmother (I had another one of those). She was the "help me figure out this problem" grandmother. She was educated and smart in a math and science kind of way. She was an academic. As a widow in her 50s, she went back to college and finished her degree work at North Georgia College. That enabled her to teach Algebra, which she absolutely loved. She also loved her azaleas and all of her other plants, and she knew the scientific name of them and why they grew the way they did. Plants were her never-ending science project. She kept a daily journal that included the day's weather, important sports scores, and a note about anything

Beth, left, and her friend, Catherine Last week, I opened an email from Beth from Lake Jackson, TX. She found my email address on my website and this is what she wrote: "I've read your two books to a friend who is 90 and blind. We have enjoyed them so much! Your books have brought us so much joy. Some days, she laughs so hard that there are tears rolling down her cheeks. We were hoping that there will be another book soon. Thank you so much for your books. From two huge fans, Beth and Catherine" In the photo, Beth is pictured, left, and Catherine is pictured, right. I have never been to Lake Jackson, TX, but it is south of Houston and west of Galveston along the coast. I've never met Beth and Catherine. But, I will be meeting them this Friday at 4 p.m. ET. By use of conference call, I will be reading them a chapter titled "Spin The Bottle" from my new book, Hickory Trail , due out in October 2018. I've written about two-thirds of the book